Throwdown
by Jameson Rook
Summary: "The first time that he noticed it was when they were sparring in the precinct gym. There was a distinctive paintball-splatter pattern of bruises covering his ribs, chest and back"  Rated for violent content and language NOT SLASH
1. Author's Note and Playlist

_**Apparently my poor little brain cannot get off the subject of Ryan and Esposito. Soooo...I give you another fic about the boys. I hope you guys aren't getting too tired of hearing about them :) For those of you that have not seen "Fight Club", there will probably be quite a few references to that movie in here, and if you haven't seen the movie, stop reading this right now and go watch it. That movie is Brad Pitt and Edward Norton perfection. This is going to be the author's note chapter, the disclaimer, and the playlist of songs that I'm listening to while writing this. I hope you guys enjoy the fic and...well, I guess I'll see you on the other side. **_

_** Disclaimer: Castle and all of its characters belong to Andrew W. Marlowe and ABC Productions. All quotes from 'Fight Club' belong to their respective owners. The songs on the following playlist belong to their owners as well.**_

**Playlist:**

**"Prayer of the Refugee" Rise Against**

**"Under the Knife" Rise Against**

**"Blood-Red, White and Blue" Rise Against**

**"Waking the Demon" Bullet for my Valentine**

**"It's Time For War" LL Cool J**

**"Ripping Corpse" Kreator**

**"Let Em Fight" Ali & Big Gipp**

**"Throwdown" Pillar**

**"Swing" Savage and Soulja Boy Tell Em**

**"Waking Up The Ghost" 10 Years**

**"Bat Country" Avenged Sevenfold**

**"Riot" Three Days Grace**

**"World So Cold" Three Days Grace**

**"Animal I Have Become" Three Days Grace**


	2. Throwdown

**"Man, I see in Fight Club, the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all of this potential, and I see it squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war...our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on televesion to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we are very, **_**very**_** pissed off."**

**~~Tyler Durden; Fight Club, 1999**

__The first time that he noticed it was when they were sparring in the precinct gym. There was a distinctive paintball-splatter pattern of bruises covering his ribs, chest and back. They were deep purple, tinged with a sickly, jaundice-like yellow, and were still lightly swollen. It looked at though someone had stuck golf balls under his skin where each bruise was situated.

Esposito didn't mention the bruises, even though he was sure that Ryan caught him staring. He simply put his hands up into a fight ready stance and smirked devilishly at the other man. His sandy brown hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, the thin strands of his bangs drooping over one eye. As Esposito looked closer at him, he couldn't help but notice that Ryan's body and stature looked differently than he remembered. His muscles moved differently then the last time they had sparred.

They began to circle each other, their eyes narrowed, but a predatory smile hung on both of their lips. Esposito struck first, his right hand shooting out towards Ryan in a vicious hook. Ryan easily deflected the punch, swatting it away before catching the hand and using Esposito's own momentum to flip him onto the mat. The air _whoosh_ed from his lungs quickly when his back collided with the ground. Ryan's body followed his, pinning his arms down with his knees and landing another right hook on his temple. The room went fuzzy when his fist connected, the edges of his vision blurring red, but he wasn't about to let Ryan win...again.

Esposito hooked his leg around the smaller man's and flipped their positions, holding his arms down as well, before dropping his elbow into Ryan's temple. The tender skin next to his eye split open easily, crimson blood dripping back into his hair. He grimaced, but the twisted contortion of pain on his face quickly morphed into something that resembled twisted enjoyment. Esposito took a moment to consider the expression on his partners face and gave him the perfect opportunity to push Esposito off him, dropping him onto his stomach. Before he realized what happened, Ryan had his legs locked around Esposito's waist from behind him and his arms closed over his throat, cutting off the air flow.

Esposito quickly recognized the position that they were in as the Anaconda leg lock, and paniced slightly, realizing that he was in a bit of a bind. He struggled against Ryan's, inexplicably muscular, arms to no avail. The edges of his vision were beginning to become blurred by a hazy grey color when he tapped the mat frantically. Ryan released all clutches on him and let him stand.

Esposito rubbed the now swollen and bruised spot on his temple tenderly. He glanced at Ryan who wasn't making any attempt to stem the blood that was flowing freely from the cut on his eye and, instead, was letting it drip off of his chin onto his bare chest and feet. Esposito reached out and wiped away a drop of blood apologetically.

"I'm sorry about this, bro. Didn't mean to elbow you so hard." He let out a solemn chuckle. He reached into his duffle bag on the bench near the door and pulled out a white cloth. He crossed back to Ryan and pressed the cloth gently to the cut. He was curious when Ryan didn't even wince. The gash was deep, but Esposito didn't think it would need stitches.

"Javi, we were sparring. Bumps and bruises happen when you spar with someone. No need to apologize." Ryan chuckled, holding the cloth to his head and wiping away the slowly couagulating blood. He handed Esposito his cloth back before moving to pick up his white t-shirt from the bench. He slipped the shirt over his head, trying to ignore the mixture of the heat from Esposito's gaze and the searing pain coming from his bruises.

"Yeah, but I'm not supposed to split your head open, Kevin." He whispered, running the pad of his thumb over the wound once again cautiously. Ryan shook his head, grinning at his partner and shrugged into his jacket.

"Seriously, bro, you don't need to worry about that." He clapped Esposito on the back and headed towards the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow, Espo. Get some rest, huh?" Esposito let out a humorless chuckle as he watched his partner's retreating form limp slightly as he walked away.

"You got it, Ryan. See you in the morning."

**"You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world."**

**~~Tyler Durden; Fight Club, 1999**

His concern hit a new level when Ryan walked into the precinct a week later with a shiner on his left eye. The bruise was vicious and a deep, dark purple color, and his eye was almost completely swollen shut. There was an angry red cut at the corner of his mouth and a splattering of bruises across his jaw.

Ryan winced when he sat in his chair, shifting slightly before settling in and powering up his computer. Esposito watched him carefully, his eyes sharp and wary. Ryan began typing reports and that was when Esposito noticed the scabbing and bruising on his knuckles. He rolled his chair over to where his partner was silently working on his paper work.

"What are these from, Kevin?" He asked quietly, his voice a low and gravelly whisper.

"It's nothing, Esposito. Drop it." Ryan's tone matched his perfectly, but his eyes never left the computer screen. He continued to type as if they weren't even having the conversation.

"These aren't nothing. What the fuck is going on with you lately?"

"Look, I really don't want to talk about it." He shoved his chair away from his desk and stalked to the break room, his coffee mug clutched in his hand. Esposito followed closely, his muscles tensed.

"Well, I really don't give a damn what you feel like talking about. I want to know. You can talk to me, dude. I'm your partner." Esposito cornered him by the coffee machine, blocking the exit with his body.

"_Javier_." Ryan growled, his body radiating with anger. "Let. It. Go." With that he brushed past Esposito and sat back at his desk, leaving him to stare at his battered partner in disbelief.

The day passed quickly, no words being exchanged between either of them. Esposito answered Beckett and Castle's concerned looks with a non-commital shrug before burying himself into his work again.

They didn't have a body drop that day, so it was a hazy blur of paperwork and more cups of coffee than he cared to count. Somewhere around four-thirty that night he noticed Ryan watching the clock. The man twitched like he was having a seizure until the clock hit five o'clock. As soon as the minute hand reached the top, he bolted for the door, not even bothering to shrug into his jacket.

Esposito quickly followed him out into the brisk night. He turned up the collar of his wool coat hastily, shivering as the cool air bit through to his chest. He maintained a good distance in between himself and Ryan, but stayed close enough that the other man wouldn't get swallowed up by the enormous crowd that engulfed the sidewalk.

Ryan looked nervous, and kept throwing quick glances around him but, luckily, Esposito had learned how to tail someone when he was working narcotics, and Ryan never caught sight of him. They had walked nearly three miles when Ryan ducked into a run down building that had the look of half the buildings the narcotics unit condemned every year.

Esposito took one look at the decaying building, his more cautious instincts kicking in and warning him against entering. The shutters were all hanging haphazardly next to the boarded windows, and the siding had almost completely fallen off. There were hundreds of spots where black mold had begun to seep through the boards and was threatening to overtake the entire building. He sucked in a deep breath and slipped silently through the door.

What he found inside was far worse than he had imagined. The floor boards were coated in dust so thick that he couldn't tell what color the tile was supposed to be, the corners of the ceiling had so many cobwebs that they looked like severly discolored cotton candy. He stepped carefully down the long hallway ahead of him, ignoring the lack of lighting and allowing his eyes to adjust to the streams of the setting sun that peeked through the boards over the windows.

He sidestepped quickly to avoid a shard of a broken beer bottle on the floor, and his back grazed the wall. When his hand moved to brace himself on the wall he immediately regretted it. When he retracted his hand, his palm was covered in a thick, grey substance that he preferred not to question what it was. He grimaced and wiped his hand on his pants before continuing. At the end of the hall, a door was cracked open and light peered through the crack into the hallway. Esposito could tell that it wasn't sun light, it was much more artificial than that. He quickly wondered exactly who could still have electricity running in the garbage heap, but he pushed the thought aside when he heard escalating voices. His back was pressed to the dingy wall when he reached the door, cracking it slightly more and looking into the room.

There was a small circle of men, all of them chanting loudly, near the center of the room. He could hear grunting and groaning, and the distinctive _smack_ of flesh connecting with flesh. The room smelled musky, the smell of iron over powering the sickening smell of sweat. His nose crinkled as he picked up undertones of urine and vomit, his stomach churning slightly at the smell.

He lost all of his bearings when he realized what he was looking at. Kevin Ryan was part of a fighting ring.

**"I got in everyone's hostile little faces. Yes, these are bruises from fighting. Yes, I'm okay with that. **_**I**_** am enlightened." **

**~~Narrator; Fight Club, 1999**

Kevin's sick smile peered at him through the jungle of sweat coated legs, not quite seeing him but looking through him instead. He launched himself from where his body had landed on the floor and let his shoulder connect with the other man's abdomen. The man that he was fighting was a tall, lanky thing. Not much muscle on him but, if Esposito's stint in the military had taught him anything, it was that it was the little guys you always had to watch out for. They would keep getting up and coming back for more until there was nothing left to come back with.

Ryan wasn't exactly helpless, however, and he proved that fact by hefting the other man into the air for a moment before launching him at one of the support beams, rattling the buidling around them slightly and causing a violent scream to tear from the man's throat. He laid there, writhing in pain and clutching his spine, as Ryan hovered over him, blood oozing from the space in between his two front teeth and coloring his smile red.

Esposito felt his body heave, but swallowed around the thick lump in his throat before taking slow steps to the circle, blending in with the other thirty or so men. He watched the man that he had come to respect so completely, pinning the other man to the ground and hammering his fists repeatedly into his face. Blood and saliva flew from Ryan's knuckles every time he cocked his arm back.

The beating continued for what seemed like an eternity before the smaller man beneath Ryan managed to gurgle something that sounded like 'enough'. That one word was all it took for the switch in Ryan's brain to flip, and he was immediately hauling himself and the other man off of the ground, blood dripping from his knuckles onto the dingy concrete floor. Ryan's chest heaved as he took gasping breaths, adrenaline coursing through his body at an alarming rate.

Esposito knew that he should be making a move toward the door before Ryan realized that he was there, but he couldn't seem to make his feet move. He was planted to the spot that he was standing, his mind moving at a thousand miles an hour. Kevin was in a fighting ring. The people that, as officers, they were supposed to be tracking down and stopping and he was one of them. He couldn't seem to wrap his head around that possibility. First, Montogmery. Now, Ryan. When the hell was the lying going to stop?

Suddenly the shock that he felt turned into rage, the bitter taste of anger lingering on the back of his tongues. His hands balled into fists at his sides and his muscles felt like they were pumping battery acid, his body beginning to shake. He wanted to scream, he wanted to lose his cool. He wanted...hell, he wanted to bust through the door of the warehouse and run until he couldn't run anymore. He wanted to destroy everything that had caused him to change from the caring man that he'd been before the military. Before the precinct. Before everything in his world came crashing to the ground.

He took a deep breath and waited, trying to allow his anger to subside. A smaller, blonde man stepped into the center of the ring of men, a cigarette hanging in his lips. He had a swelling shiner on his left eye, and a cut across his forehead. The man looked worse for wear, to say the least.

"All right." He mumbled around the cigarette as he lit it. The ominously swinging light bulb overhead flickered as he spoke. "Who's next?" Ryan's eyes never left the floor, his body swaying to some rhythm that no one else could hear, as the blonde man spoke. "Any one? Come on now, someone's got to challenge the pretty boy here." He chuckled. Esposito's feet were carrying him forward before he knew what happened.

Ryan let his gaze lift when he stepped into the center of the circle. Recognition and something that looked like fear scorched through his eyes before being replaced by a steely cover. The blonde man smirked at him, running a thumb over Esposito's forehead and cheek.

"Well now, ain't you just purty. I'm sure Gerry will have a blast with you." Esposito shot him a confused look.

"Gerry?" To his surprise, Ryan extended his hand to him stiffly, waiting for him to shake it.

"Gerry O'Malley. Good to meet ya." He said with an affected Irish accent. Esposito was taken back for a moment before nodding and retracting his hand.

"Likewise." He muttered. The blonde man looked to Esposito, crushing out his cigarette on the floor.

"Rules," He stated simply. "If he says its done, its done. There will be no ganging up. I want two men in the fight, anyone else some much as accidently throws a punch, that'll be the end of you. Do we understand each other?" The men nodded, Esposito stretched out his muscles a moment before slipping his shirt over his head and bouncing between his feet. Anger still seeped through him as he looked into the eyes of the man in front of him. He didn't even recognize this...this...thing that was supposed to be his partner. Gerry O'Malley. This wasn't Ryan. Therefore, it made sense to him that he didn't have to hold back, right? The two of them touched hands briefly before beginning to circle each other.

Ryan took the first swing, his bare knuckles swiping at the air in front of Esposito's face. He ducked under the next hook easily, feeling the breeze from his arm _whoosh_ing past. A sick smile twisted onto his face as he watched the shock cross Ryan's. He could tell that the other man knew that they were no longer sparring in the precinct gym. This was so much more.

Esposito's knuckles connected with Ryan's rib cage hard, feeling the flesh squish and the bones creak under the pressure. He staggered slightly, his hand brushing over his bruising flesh before coming back up to guard his face. Esposito swept his leg out and took Ryan's feet from underneath him, his back slamming into the floor loudly.

He followed Ryan down, pinning the man's arms before his elbow connected with his temple. The sickening sound of bone connecting with bone repeatedly filled the air that was scented with sweat and blood. He relented with his elbow and moved down Ryan's torso to rain punches onto his already injured rib cage. Ryan took him by surprise when he flipped them and landed a thunderous punch across his cheek bone. Blood dripped down his face and into his close cropped hair as Ryan connected with his nose, the cartiledge and bone cracking. Pain erupted through his head as his nose shattered, but he refused to accept defeat.

He let loose a vicious, primal growl and threw Ryan from him. They both stood up and shook the blood from their faces before moving closer. Esposito's fist connected with Ryan's jaw, a sickening _pop_ echoing through the small room. A small shock of guilt went through him as he realized that he'd dislocated the man's jaw, but it was quickly overtaken by the adrenaline again. He shifted his weight and tossed a much lighter jab to the other side of his face, feeling the jaw slip back into place, a trick that he'd learned in the military. Ryan shook his head slightly and wiggled his mouth as he shot Esposito a thankful glance. Reguardless of the fact that they were beating the hell out of each other and Ryan had been lying to him, they were still partners, and the wheels hadn't fallen off just yet.

The fight when on for nearly twenty minutes when Esposito landed an axe kick to the back of Ryan's head, splitting the flesh open and letting blood pour down his bare back and neck. Ryan clutched his head and howled in pain.

"Enough!" He bellowed, falling to his knees in pain. He was silent for a moment before whispering again. "Enough." The blonde man seemed to appear out of no where and lifted Eposito's hand over his head, but his gaze was trained on where his injured partner bled profusely.

"Someone needs to get him to a hosptial." Esposito stated, shifting his gaze to the man holding his arm. The man chuckled sarcastically and shook his head.

"We don't go to the hospitals." He stated simply. Esposito's eyes flamed before he shook the man's hand off of his arm and helped Ryan to his feet.

"Well, then it's a good thing I know how to run a stitch." He grumbled, slinging Ryan's arm around his shoulder and holding the man to him. He ushered him out of the house and into the cold New York night.

**"In the world I see you're stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You'll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You'll climb the wrist-thick kudzu veins that wrap the Sears Tower. And, when you look down, you'll see tiny figures pounding corn, laying stripes of venison on the empty car pool lane of some abandoned superhighway."**

**~~Tyler Durden; Fight Club, 1999**

They walked the short couple of blocks to Ryan's apartment slowly, Esposito fighting to keep Ryan concious and upright for the better part of the trip. The two men stumbled through the door and Esposito led him to the couch. He made sure that Ryan was settled and relatively concious before scurrying to the bathrrom on autopilot.

He threw open the medicine cabinet and gathered up gauze, medical tape, and rubbing alcohol. He made a pit stop in the kitchen to dig through the utility drawer to find a needle and thread. He finally found the small box with the needles and thread in it and hurried back into the living room.

Ryan was resting his head on the roadkill couch, blood trickling over the red fabric and turning it an almost black color. His eyelids had fluttered closed and Esposito's heart nearly stopped. He walked to his partner and shook him lightly until Ryan's unfocused blue eyes met his.

"You gotta stay awake, bro." He muttered, helping the other man shift so that he could get to the back of his head. The gash was deep and gaping, sticky warm blood oozing out of it slowly. He dabbed the gauze into the rubbing alcohol, cleaning the cut slowly. Ryan hissed in pain as Esposito began to pull the needle through the cut and sewed it shut. He whispered, "I'm so sorry about this, Ryan."

"Esposito, please don't go there. Just ask what you're thinking. Don't skate around the issue." Ryan replied through clenched teeth.

"Okay, what the hell were you doing there?"

"It's...it started a month or so ago. I heard something in the building when I was taking a short cut home from the precinct one day. I walked in, saw them fighting. I should've stopped them. I know I should have, but I couldn't. It just drew me in, I couldn't leave. It's...invigorating. For the first time since Jenny left, I felt alive. It became addicting. I couldn't stop going." His voice lowered an octave as he hung his head forward slightly. "I'm so sorry, Javier."

"You don't have to be sorry, bro. I know what you mean. I can't remember the last time I felt like I did tonight. It was by far the most incredible feeling that I've ever had, even though I hurt you. I don't blame you." Esposito tied the last stitch and poured more alcohol over it slowly before placing a piece of gauze over the wound and taping it. "This should be fun to explain to Beckett and Castle." He chuckled softly, sitting next to Ryan and touching his swollen cheek and eye carefully.

"Yeah," Ryan grumbled, leaning back against the couch. "I'm sure that we won't hear the end of this one." They were silent for what seemed like an eternity before Ryan wordlessly turned on the Xbox and handed him a controller after queing up Madden. They played well into the night, knowing that Ryan couldn't sleep with his possible concussion. Esposito let his mind wander as he watched the ball soaring through the air on the screen. He thought about how angry he'd been at Ryan for not telling him, for lying to him. He had never thought about the possibility that, perhaps, he wasn't mad at him for not telling him. Perhaps, he was mad at Ryan because he hadn't allowed him the oppourtunity to go with him.

When he was fighting, nothing else in the world was on his mind. When the fight was finished, they hadn't solved anything, but nothing mattered. Fighting was his savior. His redemption. Fighting was everything, and he couldn't get it out of his head. Frankly, he was alright with that, because he felt more refreshed, revived and renewed than he ever had in his life. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch before pausing the game and looking at Ryan with a smirk across his face.

"So, when do we do we go again?"" He didn't care that Beckett was going to give them hell for weeks about the bruises, he didn't care that what they were doing was illegal. He didn't care that he was totally losing his mind. He was no longer Javier Esposito. He was a man reborn. From under the fire and the ashes that was the ruins of his life and his realization that life was simply too short to waste it not taking chances, rose something beautiful...a new start. He was saved.

**"Listen to me! You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you, he never wanted you, and in all probability**, **he HATES you. It's not the worst thing that could happen. Fuck damnation, man! Fuck redemption! We're God's unwanted children? So be it!"**

**~~Tyler Durden; Fight Club, 1999**


End file.
